


Even Hunters have Career Day

by tearsoffand



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Kid!Fic, M/M, Retired Hunters, Smut, Very Minor Character Death, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean, injured!dean, some racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearsoffand/pseuds/tearsoffand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have both retired from hunting and are living a new life in a Texan suburb with their son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Hunters have Career Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This turned out way sweeter and lighter than I was going for, but then this is a Christmas gift... Hope it still hits the spot!
> 
> (and English is still not my first language!)

Dean is under a Buick Sedan 1957 trying to make sense of the state of the brakes when a small butt parks down on his shin. “Daddy!” 

He avoids banging his head against the car and rolls out, growling playfully and taking RJ in his arms for a hug. “Hey little man, what are you doing out here?” he asks his son, ruffling through his hair. “Sammy boring you inside huh, you wanna see some cars?” he knows he shouldn’t encourage the kid, with all the equipment lying around, but he can’t really get angry at RJ. It’s impossible. 

“Yeah!” RJ says, “Sammy’s boring!” he says with a grin, but when Sam runs to the garage, face panicked, he still runs to him, holding his arms up in the air. “Sorry Sammy!” he says, giving Sam a bear hug.

Sam sags in relief and swoops the kid off the ground. “That wasn’t nice at all, RJ!” he admonishes, even though he presses no less than three kisses to his temple and gently smooths his hair down. “I know that what Daddy’s doing here is really cool, but it’s pretty dangerous out here, bud, you know that. You’re a smart boy right?” he asks.

RJ nods and looks down, a crestfallen look on his face. “Yeah,” his sighs, then he looks at Sam. “But I just wanted to tell Daddy the good news! But… then I forgot.” He adds, pouting. 

That definitely piques Dean’s interest. “It’s okay, darling,” he says, getting up and straightening his greasy overall, “Now, what the news? You got me really curious!” he says, trying to cheer the kid up, looking at Sam with a questioning look.

“Well!” RJ says, sitting up straighter, hand tangled in Sam’s neat, white shirt. “Miss Cherry said to us that we should bring our parents to school! To ‘splain about your job.” He beams. “So I said, well my Daddy’s a mechanic, and everyone was like ‘whoooaaa!” he says, waiving his hands around. “So you wanna come Daddy? Please?”

Dean knows he’s smiling like a crazy person, but he can’t help it. His boy is the coolest, sweetest kid on the planet, and to see him being bullied for being the only Black kid in class has had him aching to get his guns out. Call him a Momma bear—Sam does—but he didn’t let anyone bully his little brother back in the day, he sure as hell ain’t gonna let anyone bully his son. This sounds like a good opportunity to get the other kids to like his boy better. Dean knows it’s not the kids’ fault, but their parents for being narrow-minded assholes, so he has hope. 

“You got it,” he says, and the smile on the kid alone is worth it. “Should I give Miss Cherry a call or will she call me?”

RJ nods. “She said to tell her,” he says. “I’m so happy you’re coming!”

Sam sets him down on the ground, and Dean gives him a quick kiss. “Okay, why don’t you go on ahead inside, so we can work on your homework some more?” his brother proposes, and RJ nods and runs inside. Dean watches him go fondly.

“Dean,” Sam says unexpectedly anxious, “I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” he says unhappily. “If we hadn’t moved here…” he runs his hand through his hair. 

When Sammy got his job at HartmanLannister as a junior partner as a fiscal laywer, they were all of a sudden flooded with cash like never before. IT wasn’t really like they were poor, but with Sam studying and Dean working as a mechanic in a shop for German cars, all the money that didn’t go to gas, rent, RJ or Sam’s books was used for Dean’s equipment. 

But then Sammy started bringing home the big bucks, with bonuses and 13th months. They were still in their apartment downtown, because Sam had to buy a whole new wardrobe with coats that cost more than two months’ rent with stupid Italian names like Loro Piana and Prada, and the apartment as big enough for the three of them.

Sam’s partners hadn’t really liked the address though, so after another bonus, a raise, and a promise in writing of Senior Partner in three years, they’d all but made Sam sign a contract they would move out to the ‘burbs, to something that looked pretty.

Sam offered to get another job somewhere, because moving that far away meant that Dean couldn’t stay with the shop. He said he’d find another place to work that wasn’t so snobbish. Dean had nearly punched him in the face; Sammy’d finally found a place he wanted to work at, and with more money that they could spend on RJ Dean wasn’t gonna complain. He’d find himself a new job, and in the meantime, staying home with his baby wasn’t a problem, at all.

So, they’d moved to a house just outside the city. Dean’s never seen the deed because he knows he’ll get nauseated, but it wouldn’t surprise him if it was worth around the five zero’s mark. They have a pool, and a huge back yard, and a waterbed of all things. And two years after moving in, they could afford to open up _Dean’s_ , a specialty shop, American classics only, in the large garage that belongs to the house. Living around people that have even more money than they do ensures a huge customer base, because they most definitely don’t have a clue about the finer points of cars, they just want to drive them. Now Dean makes almost as much as Sam.

Only downside about the whole thing is the lack of other black kids around. Cassie would turn in her grave if she knew her son didn’t even have one black friend. Dean compromised by keeping him on a soccer team close to their old home, but that still doesn’t solve the problem of the racist parents at his kid’s school. They’re eight weeks into RJ’s first year of elementary school and he hasn’t had a single play date. 

Still, that’s not Sam’s fault.

“Sammy,” he says, pulling him closer by his wrist, “This isn’t on you, okay?”

Sam nods and leans in to kiss him, wrapping him in his arms. “Yeah,” he says softly, “it’s just that he’s such a good kid, I hate to see him like this.” He says, holding Dean against him. 

Dean breathes in Sam’s cologne. On any other guy it would be too much, but on Sam it’s just smells so freaking good. “I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Sam’s chin. “But he’s got an awesome Sammy, who takes real good care of him, huh little brother?” he whispers. RJ doesn’t, can’t know they’re related, so it’s a secret between them that only gets mentioned on rare occasions. 

Sam stutters out a breath and kisses him passionately, then he pulls back and looks down at his shirt with a heartfelt ‘fuck,’ rubbing at the oil stains. Dean laughs and kisses him again, before pushing him off and slapping him on the ass. “Alright, I have to get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Sam grumbles, “I have to get back to explaining to RJ why running out here in this health hazard isn’t good for him,” he says bitchily, but he goes in for a peck before walking away, so it’s all good.

 

The next morning, when Dean’s kneeling in the entry hall and trying to wrestle RJ’s ever-growing feet in his shoes—they really need to buy him some new ones this week—a lightbulb switches on in his head as he watches Sam put on his light brown--cognac, camel, who cares—overcoat and transforms from floppy-haired whiny Sam to a corporate lawyer in a second. The way his hair curls over the collar is very distracting, but he manages to ignore it for now.

“Hey RJ,” he says, “how would you like it if Sammy came with us to school as well, to talk about his job?” he asks slowly, looking up at Sam, who freezes, then starts to smile. “I mean, he’s your other daddy right?”

RJ shakes his head, throwing him a look like Deans gone stupid. “No Daddy, _you_ ’re my Daddy. Sammy is my _Sammy_ ,” he explains carefully, checking to see if Dean gets it. Sam sighs audibly, but when Dean glances up at his little brother, Sam’s sporting a huge grin. “Daddy!” RJ says.

“I’m paying attention darling, I’m sorry,” Dean says quickly. “And you’re totally right, how dumb of me.”

“And Sammy should totally come,” RJ goes on with a tiny frown, leaning forward, “even though his job is boring,” he whispers loudly, then he giggles. 

Dean gives him a fist bump with him while Sam exaggerates being put out. “So Sammy, whadda ya say huh? Wanna come with to explain all about your boring job?”

Sam pretends to think about it and RJ hugs him around the middle. “Please Sammy?” he asks with huge puppy eyes that seem to run in their family. 

“Well alright then,” he says, and RJ jumps around excitedly. “We have to go now though, or you’ll be late to school!” Sam says. RJ nods and ties his laces with a great deal of concentration. 

“Okay bye Daddy!” he says when he’s done, giving Dean a hug. “Say bye to the car for me!” and he’s outside, running to Sam’s Lexus. 

Dean watches him go with a smile, then he looks to Sam. “Sorry for springing that on you,” he says sheepishly.

Sam shakes his head with a smile. “It’s fine, I really want to come, smooch up the moms there,” he says, pulling Dean closer by the tie of his bathrobe. It has the Metallica logo embroidered on the front pocket and a huge ‘ 67 on the back. “Now, promise me you won’t let that car drop on your head,” he says with a kiss, but there’s a glint of worry in his eyes as his hand drops to Dean’s chest, right over the spot where the Lamia stuck her claws in his chest. A few hairs to the right and his heart would’ve been ripped to shreds, but he got off with a banged up lung and the inability to even jog without fainting. He doesn’t ever want to the think about the devastation on Sam’s face in the hospital again.

“Promise,” he says, “see you tonight.” They kiss another time, then Sam’s out the door. 

 

He’s belly deep in reassembling the Buick’s engine when the phone rings, so he snaps on the latex glove he put on the hook next to the phone on the wall for when his hands are greasy like they are now, and pulls the horn to his ear. “Good afternoon, this is Dean Winchester, how can I help you.”

“Hello Mr. Winchester, this is Cheryl Frasier from Merriweather Elementary, RJ’s teacher? We met at the start of the year?” the girl says cheerfully.

Dean vaguely remembers a blonde woman with a huge smile who could keep track of all the kids somehow, but he was interested in making sure there weren’t any health hazards in the building. Sam dealt with her about RJ’s first report card alone because Dean had gotten a rush job that same day.

“Yeah, of course,” he says quickly. “What can I do you for?”

“RJ just told me you and your partner are both available to speak to the class about your jobs for our Career day?” she asks.

Dean nods. “My husband,” he says automatically. They’re not legally married—they could never be—but the same last name is pretty tricky to explain. That’s their excuse for the ruse, but Sam still proposed to him over a good steak dinner in their tiny apartment, just after RJ had his bottle and Dean was wearing a clean shirt for the first time in three days. He’d gotten down on a knee and held up a ring, and Dean hadn’t made a single joke when he accepted. He loves calling Sam his husband, seeing his ring on Sam’s finger, not that he will ever tell that to his brother. Still, he keeps his own ring next to the amulet on the chain around his neck so it won’t get damaged by his work. “Yes ma’am,” he says, “that’s correct.”

“Alrighty! And might I ask what you both do for a living? Just so we won’t ask someone who does the same thing,” she asks. He hears the click of a pen.

“Well, I’m a mechanic, I own a specialty car shop,” Dean says, “RJ thought the kids would like it if I spoke,” he says, grabbing a letter opener and scraping some motor oil out from under his nail.

“Oh, absolutely,” she says, “I’m sure they’ll love it. And your husband?”

“Sam works as a corporate lawyer in the city,” he says. “I can give you the phone number to his office if you want more information that that,” he adds with a chuckle, “I don’t know much about it.”

She laughs along with him. “Oh that’s alright, but thank you. Now, I have you down for Thursday at one,” she says, “Around lunch would probably better for your husband?” 

“Yeah,” he says, “even though I’m pretty sure he’ll clear his schedule for RJ, it would be best if he didn’t need to miss too much work.” He can’t help bragging a bit.

“Fantastic. I’ll see the two of you on Thursday! Thank you both so much!” Cheryl says.

“Bye,” Dean says, and he hangs up. 

 

That Thursday Sam dresses in his best clothes, and Dean carefully combs the fluff on RJ’s head, shaping his afro in the neatest shape it’s ever been. RJ does his best to sit still even though he’s really excited, and he ends up looking pretty amazing if Dean might say so; neat kaki pants, blue polo and his new green shoes. 

“Sammy!” he yells when Dean’s done with him, “your hair too!” he demands.

Sam laughs and kisses his cheek before looking to Dean. “You wanna?” he asks, holing out his comb. 

Dean takes it. “Sure,” he says, urging Sam to sit down on the small stool and combing his hair carefully, dropping a kiss on his ear when he’s done. “There, pretty as a rose, huh darling?” he asks RJ.

Sam turns his head so RJ can look at his hair. “Yep! But Sammy always looks neat,” he says, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist. 

“And I don’t?” Dean teases, looking down at RJ with a grin. His son stomps his leg and grins back.

“Nope,” he says, “you always make all of your clothes dirty,” making Sam laugh. 

Dean sighs dramatically. “Ah well, I suppose you’re right then,” he says, looking at his brother, “You do look really good, RJ’s right,” he admits.

Sam’s flushing, and he gets up and pulls Dean in a hug, his hands sliding over Dean’s bare skin, his shirt so soft against Dean’s chest. “I should be telling you that,” he says, hand cupping the back of Dean’s head before he kisses him. Sam’s lips feel great and Dean melts a little, kissing back enthusiastically.

“OH Daddy, Sammy! EEWW!” RJ yells, looking up at them with a wrinkle in his nose, “why are you always kissing? It’s _wet_ ,” he says with a demonstrative shudder, and Dean can’t help but burst into laughter. “You need to get dressed like me and Sammy, you can’t go outside in just boxers and socks.” His son continues, still grimacing. “Sammy, back off!” he says. 

“I’m sorry RJ,” Sam says, “you’re absolutely right,” and he reaches for his cufflinks smugly. 

Dean takes a step towards his part of their closet—a huge walk-in thing—but RJ quickly runs past him to pull out a clean overall. 

“Can you wear this? And put on you tool belt?” he asks, his green eyes huge. “It’ll look so cool Daddy!”

 

He can’t say no, so at noon he jumps in the Impala and drives to Sam’s office dressed in a really uncomfortable brand new overall, wearing his tool belt. He perks up a bit when he pulls over at entrance of Sam’s building where he sees Sam’s holding two large cups of fancy coffee. “Hey Dee,” he says, pressing a kiss to Dean’s mouth, “you ready?”

Dean winds his fingers in Sam’s hair and kisses back, careful not to drop the coffee. He sheepishly combs the brown strands back down over Sam’s collar when he sees how messy he made it. “Yeah,” he admits, “kinda nervous though.” He admits, taking a sip from his cup. 

Sam holds his hand for second. “Well, don’t be. We’re gonna be fine. The kids will love you, I kiss up to the parents and RJ is gonna have a great day!” he squeezes Dean’s hand. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, and he pulls away and drives to the school blasting some Blue Oyster Cult. Sam takes a call halfway there, his hand on Dean’s shoulder the whole time. 

When they pull over Sam stops him from getting out of the car, instead pulling him in a hug. He spends a few moments just pressing kisses in Dean’s neck until he’s boneless, then he pulls back with a last kiss to Dean’s lips. “Relax. You’re an amazing dad, it’ll be fine,” he says. “Those idiots won’t know what hit ‘ em when I’m done with them, alright?”

“Thanks Sammy,” Dean says, grateful. “You’re a good parent, you know that,” he adds, getting out of the car before he loses his nerve. Ghouls, vamps, he can handle. Not humans.

Sam comes around to stand beside him, and Dean fixes his hair again. “Dean,” Sam says, grabbing his hands. “I mean it, you’ll be great. Kids love you, and RJ worships you. Even if the parents hate you, you know RJ will have a great time seeing you talk,” he says, pressing him between the car and his body, just holding him for a second. They don’t do this often, out in public, but Dean gives in and exhales, sagging into Sam’s arms for a second, resting his forehead against Sam’s cheek.

“I love you,” he says a moment, looking up. Sam’s smiling down at him fondly, his beautiful eyes green in the sunlight, dimples popping. 

“I love you too Dee,” his little brother responds, rubbing their noses together. “Now let’s go inside,” he says, “The kid’s waiting.” He plays with Dean’s ring for a moment.

“Yeah,” Dean says, sliding his hand under Sam’s coat and squeezing his ass before nudging him away so he can lock the doors, grinning when Sam starts to complain about it, being in public. 

The classroom is filled with talking parents who’re holding mismatched mugs of coffee and kids who are giggling and running together. “Daddy! Sammy! Over here, here!” 

RJ is sitting all alone at his desk, an exercise sheet in front of him. All the other kids are clearly having fun with their friends, but he’s alone and it breaks Dean’s heart. Sam notices too, gripping his hand as they walk over. “Hey darling,” Dean says, dropping to his knees so he can give his boy a hug. 

“Hi!” RJ says, hugging him back firmly, then Sam. 

“Misters Winchester?” a young woman asks, smiling at Sam very politely. 

“Yes ma’ am,” Sam says, shaking her hand. “I’m Sam, this is Dean,” he says. 

Dean lifts RJ in his arm and stands, shaking her hand as well. “Ms. Frazier?” he asks.

She looks at his overall and her smile warms up. “Call me Cherrie,” she says. “Would you like something to drink?” she asks. 

“Coffee?” Dean asks, and she looks at Sam, who nods in agreement. RJ then shows them his exercises and asks them for some help.

“Excuse me?” someone says when Cherrie’s just returned with two full mugs, and when they turn around there’s a guy who’s dressed exactly the same way as Sam. “Are you RJ’s parents?” he asks with an oily smile.

Sam smiles back with the same fakeness. “Yeah, we are. This my husband Dean, RJ’s father,” Dean holds RJ extra tightly when he looks down shyly, “and I am Sam.” And he pulls a business card from his pocket fluently. 

The man accepts it. “I’m Lila Harrow’s father, Frank,” he says, passing Sam a card back. “So good to finally meet you,” he says, looking at RJ before glancing at his daughter. “My wife’s over there,” he says, pointing to a woman with very expensive blonde hair, “I’m sure Lila and RJ could have a playdate someday,” he says, and _wham_ , that’s the opening Dean’s been hoping for. 

Unfortunately, that’s when Cherrie claps in her hands. “Everyone! Thank you so much for coming today, for taking the time out of your undoubtedly busy schedules. Now, why don’t we start with pulling up our chairs into the circle,” she proposes. 

For a few minutes there’s only the scraping of chairs over linoleum, then the kids are all neatly seated in a horseshoe facing the teacher’s desk. Cheryl rolls her desk chair in front of her desk as well. “All right, so we are going to start with Dean Winchester, RJ’s father. I’ve been told he’s a mechanic! He works with cars!” she sends him another one of those warm smiles; she clearly understands what’s going on, and definitely on RJ’s side. 

There’s polite applause by the parents and enthusiastic yelling by the kids, and Dean grabs RJ and sits down on Cherrie’s chair, putting his arm around his boy. “Hi there, I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my son RJ, you’ve all met him. Don’t bother with that Mr. Winchester stuff, y’all can call me Dean alright?”

“Hi Dean!” the kids echo. 

“So I’ll tell you a bit about my work and after you can ask me some questions, how’s about that?”

“Sounds good!” a boy calls out. Dean grins and launches into telling them about what he does, allowing RJ to come in and elaborate on stuff like how many colors of paint he has and what the biggest tool in the shop is. From the corner of his eye he can see that Sam’s talking to Harlow and a kid’s mom, doing his usual professional face. The other two are talking to him the exact same way as he is, clearly seeing him as an equal. 

“And my Daddy only fixes really special cars!” RJ shouts when he’s grasping for something more to tell them that they can understand. “My Daddy’s own car is really special too,” and he runs to his backpack and pulls out the model Dean made for him holding it up. 

The kids, all entrenched in the story, ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and start talking to RJ, defrosting immediately. Dean lets them, sitting back and drinking his coffee, watching RJ glow as the attention is on him.

“Mr. Dean?” a little girl asks, sticking her hand up, shushing the others. 

“Yes sweetheart,” he says, “go ahead.”

“Well… RJ says he doesn’t have a mommy,” she says, looking confused, “he says he has a Daddy and a Sammy. What’s a Sammy?”

The rest of the kids go silent, looking at Dean eagerly for an explanation. RJ flushes and looks to the ground, noticing the parents have gone silent as well.

“Well, that’s a good question,” Dean says, keeping calm. “Sammy?” he asks softly. 

Sam smiles broadly and walks to them, standing in front of the kids. “Hi guys, I’m Sam,” he says. 

“RJ, I don’t get it,” the girl says sincerely. 

RJ sits up straighter. “Well, when I was really little, my mommy died,” he says slowly, “but then Daddy found Sammy and fell in love with him, so now Sammy and Daddy take care of me together,” he explains with an earnest smile.

“That’s pretty cool!” The little girl says, and the test of the kids nod. “Are you a mechanic too?”

And that’s when the attention is on Sam as he explains about his work. He somehow manages to get the parents to laugh while still keeping the children in mind; it’s like a Disney movie, for rich people. 

After Sam’s done talking they both receive some applause. RJ goes to sit back down in his chair next to the little girl, and the she starts whispering to him immediately. RJ nods and then laughs loudly, the girl joining him.

Dean, chest warm, hides behind Sam as another parent starts talking, pressing his face in Sam’s back as he smiles in victory. He wraps an arm around Sam’s waist to give him an undercover hug, and Sam grabs his hand and squeezes it. 

He stays there for another moment, just breathing in Sam’s cologne and smiling uncontrollably, before he steps back out. RJ’s looking at them over his shoulder with a smile, and Dean gives him two big thumbs up. 

When they leave the little girl RJ sat next to runs after them. “RJ! RJ wait!” she yells, her mom trying to speed walk after her in high heels. 

“Hi Lila,” he says, and Dean realizes this is the girl whose father spoke with Sam. “What’s up?” he’s still a little guarded, which Dean really can’t blame him for.

“This is my momma,” she says, looking over her shoulder at her mom.

“Hello Mrs. Farrow,” RJ says politely. Dean tries not to grin in pride. 

“Hello RJ,” she says with a smile, “hello y’all,” she adds to Sam and Dean. “Me and Lila were wondering if you’d like to come over this afternoon?” she asks. 

“I can show you my cars!” Lila adds hopefully. 

RJ looks at Dean. “You wanna go darling?” Dean asks him, running his hand through his soft hair.

His son nods. “I’d like to,” he says, “I brought the Impala too,” he adds to Lila, who starts nodding enthusiastically. 

“Alright,” Dean says, smiling politely at Mrs. Farrow, “I’ll pick him up at five?” he asks.

“Perfect!” she says, looking at Sam. “You have our phone number, Sam. ” she adds, and Sam smiles. 

“I do, Erica,” he pats his breast pocket. “Tell Frank I’ll call him about that contract tomorrow.” 

“I will, thanks again, you’re a lifesaver,” she says, “Kids, you ready?”

“Alright, bye Daddy, by Sam!” RJ says, and he sprints off with Lila, Erica trying to keep up on her heels.

 

When they’re back at home Dean pulls two beers out of the fridge and hands one to Sam, sitting down next to him on the sofa. Sam wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in as he takes a sip.

“Thanks Sam,” Dean says, leaning his head back against Sam’s shoulder. “You being there really convinced them we’re just the same as them,” he says softly. He’s not angry at himself, he just knows Sam can definitely pull it off and he most definitely can’t, too rough and loud for that kind of polished people.

Sam presses a beer-wet kiss to his temple. “Yeah, well, anything for RJ… I mean, I love him so much,” he says with a smile. “He always makes me happy, even if he spills the whole box of cornflakes on the ground.”

Dean laughs. “He cleaned it up himself,” he says, burrowing in Sam’s side a little. 

“He did,” Sam says, taking Dean’s bottle and setting it on the coffee table along with his own before kissing him again, pressing him flat on the couch. Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s shoulders, unwilling to let too much space get between them as Sam unzips his overall. “So, we get the afternoon to ourselves,” he whispers, biting down on Dean’s collarbone as he pulls the sleeve off. 

“You got plans?” he asks, helping with getting the overall off, kicking it off while still holding onto Sam. 

“Oh yeah,” Sam says with a smug grin, thumbing a nipple and making Dean hiss. 

“Kinda need to take your clothes off though,” Dean teases. Sam bites down on his bottom lip before getting off the couch and toeing off his socks and shoes. Dean takes the opportunity to take his own boxers off, and Sam takes a good look at him before sliding his jacket off slowly, putting it down on a chair. His hands move to the buttons of his shirt then, undoing them one by one.

Dean strokes himself softly, loving the controlled ways Sam slides the shirt off his muscled arms. He folds it calmly, then his hands move to his leather belt, the silver of his buckle glinting when he undoes it. “Sammy,” Dean whispers, eyes stuck on his treasure trail. Sam grins and slides his pants and boxer off, revealing his hard cock, and Dean groans. 

“Like what you see?” Sam asks teasingly, lowering himself on the sofa again to cover Dean. Their naked skin rubs together in a way that makes goosebumps rise all over his back. 

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, managing to flip them over so he’s on top. He crawls up to Sam’s head and pointedly waggles his hard dick in Sammy’s face. “You?” he asks with a grin, Sam’s hands wrapping around his hips.

“View’s good enough to eat,” Sam says, then his sucks Dean’s dick in his mouth.

Dean shudders, eyes stuck on Sam’s wet lips around his cock. He gently moves his hips, making Sam moan and take him in even deeper, keeping Dean close with those huge hands around his thighs. 

Finally Dean has to pull back or risk coming to early, grabbing Sam’s wallet to take out the lube in there. He rips the sachet open with his teeth and slaps on a heap on Sam’s dick, then, making sure Sam’s watching, he turns around and slips a finger inside himself. 

“Dean, fuck,” Sam whines, watching breathlessly as he opens himself up. Dean tries to go slow and really give him something to look at, but his cock is drooling and he really, _really_ needs Sam.

Climbing on again, he takes Sam’s cock in hand and sinks down around in one smooth roll, feeling really full as he’s spread open wide. “Oh God,” he grunts, throwing his head back. 

“Dean, you alright?” Sam asks, looking concerned, a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“I feel amazing,” he says, smoothing it out with his thumb before running his hand through Sam’s hair. Sam smiles up at him then, his beautiful eyes twinkling before he gives a little trust with his hips. 

“What are you waiting for?” he asks, and Dean plants his hands on Sam’s chest and starts riding him, slowly at first so he can really feel it, Sam sliding in and out of him, before speeding up. Sam grunts in satisfaction and grabs his ass, looking down at where his cock’s going inside Dean. 

That’s so hot, Dean wishes he could see it too, but he settles for leaning forward to kiss Sam, jerking his cock hard while he sits back and lets Sam do all the work, clenching tightly around the cock in his ass. “Close,” he manages to get out, and Sam nods, head red as he slaps Dean’s hand away and wraps his own around his cock.

Dean barely lasts three well-timed moves before he’s coming all over Sam’s chest, panting in his mouth. 

Sam slows down to fuck him through it, then he flips them over again, hitches one leg over his shoulder and gives a few final thrusts before coming too, mouth open on a silent _o_. 

Dean pulls Sam down, not caring that his come is slicking both their chest and bellies, making a huge mess. “Needed that,” he says, kissing his nose. Sam nods and buries his face in Dean’s neck.

“Pflove youhhm,” he mumbles, fingers rubbing through the hair at the base of Dean’s skull. 

“You too Sammy,” Dean says, staring up at the roof happily. After a moment the phone starts ringing, but neither of them feels like getting up, so it goes to voicemail.

 _Click._ ”Hi Sam and Dean, this is Erica. Listen, I know we didn’t discuss it, but I was hoping RJ could stay over for dinner? He and Lila are playing so nicely together,” Erica’s voice sounds.

Dean gives Sam a wet, loud kiss and runs to the phone to answer. 

It’s been a good day.


End file.
